Foxgloves That Planted Their Own Selves

Wild foxgloves on the edge of moorland in Darwen, Lancashire
Foxgloves on the edge of moorland

If you were to take a decently long countryside walk in summer near where I live, you’d almost certainly pass a hundred or more wild foxgloves. To (nearly) quote blogging buddy, Maureen, they’re the ones ‘that planted their own selves’. And to my eye they’re the better for it.

Foxglove growing on a wall

Their habit of tumbling down banks and walls, swinging out on the wind towards passers-by who come too close, gave rise to folklore’s claim that foxgloves nod in deference when a member of the gentry passes by.

Most likely they do, but I can vouch that they also nod to commoners (unless foxgloves know more about my ancestry than do I).

Foxgloves in managed woodland at RHS Garden Bridgewater
Foxgloves in managed woodland

Foxgloves mingle beautifully in flower borders, but it always surprises me to see them used as bedding plants, especially when they are evenly spaced in straight rows.

Not that they’re likely to remain regular – even the sturdiest, most upright ones have a habit of straying.

Foxgloves growing wild along a dry stone wall

Deep pink Digitalis purpurea, plus a smattering of white ones and a rarer pale pink form, are the ones we have in Lancashire.

Wild foxglove hybrid with elderberry flowers beside a wooden post

Wild white and pink foxgloves

White foxgloves have an other quality, especially when they gleam in half-light. It’s easy to see how the folk name, Fairy’s petticoats, came about.

Foxgloves in a meadow
Foxgloves in a meadow

As not everyone has the chance to see foxgloves growing in their own style, I thought I’d share a few pictures that celebrate their wildness.

Naturalistic planting of foxgloves at the Dorothy Clive Garden
Naturalistic planting of foxgloves, Dorothy Clive Garden

I’ll leave you with two images that show how the wild style can work in gardens, including a foxglove that had beautifully self-seeded with ferns and campanulas in the walled garden of a terraced house that opened for the National Garden Scheme in Liverpool earlier this year.

Foxglove growing in the brick wall of a terraced house

By this point in the year, their flower spikes are studded with seedpods that have turned brown and papery: effectively sprinklers that loose their tiny seeds wherever they sway.

Shared for Cee’s Flower of the Day.

51 Replies to “Foxgloves That Planted Their Own Selves”

  1. Foxgloves planting their own selves! They do quite an admirable job of it too. I love the thought that maybe they know more about your ancestry than you do and are bowing therefore and thereat. Fairy’s petticoat is a wonderful name. I covet the white ones. And I am honored to be quoted — never mind that I laughed out loud when I saw it!

    1. Lovely to hear from you Marian and I hope all’s well. I have walked around with spikes that have gone to seed, lightly tapping them where I wanted them to grow, although your method probably works better. I wonder what their seed to flower ratio is.

  2. How enchantingly lovely! I’ve never seen foxgloves growing wild, but they’ve always been a garden favorite for my husband and me. Will share these photos with him.
    ~Dora

    1. I read that, in the past, they have been used to identify changelings, which sent a shiver down my back. Let’s hope that’s not true as they are highly poisonous.

    1. I love to see them flowering on walls. I’m sure we’d see them grown in gardens like that more often, were it not that they plant themselves there more easily than we can manage it.

    1. My sweetheart once made me a foxgloves and barbed wire bouquet. It was quite quirky-looking, but I’ll never forget it! I read afterwards that you shouldn’t really have them in the house.

    1. They’re natives and don’t really cause much trouble. It might be connected to their being biennials. I’ve often seen the first year seedlings swarming all over a tumble-down wall and thought ‘I wonder how those are going to look when they flower’, yet by the second year, it’s clear they haven’t all survived.

  3. I love the one that self-seeded in the wall. I bet you couldn’t get one to do that if you tried–only if you leave it to do what it wants.

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